From the Editor When I was studying for my Masters in Divinity (MDiv) at Loyola University Chicago, we were required to take a class called Liturgical Leadership. Our professor, a woman, said to all of us, “If this class was for seminarians, it would be called Preaching and Presiding, but since it is designed for laity, it is called Liturgical Leadership.” Looking around at the class of mostly women, it was evident that the reason the school couldn’t call it preaching and presiding is that most of the students enrolled in the MDiv program were women. In that class, I was given a gift many Catholic women are not given. We learned to preach and preside. Our professor explained that we were equipped with these essential skills because we would be called upon. We are called upon! Pope Francis writes in his post-synodal apostolic exhortation, Querida Amazonia: “Women make their contribution to the Church in a way that is properly theirs, by making present the tender strength of Mary, the Mother. As a result, we do not limit ourselves to a functional approach but enter instead into the inmost structure of the Church. In this way, we will fundamentally realize why, without women, the Church breaks down.” By virtue of our baptism, through the power of the Spirit, we have been called Priest, Prophet, and King and we all have been given the authority to be life-giving, to pray, to speak prophetic truths, and to nourish bodies and souls around the Eucharistic table. I often get asked if I felt the call to the diaconate and my response has been, “I don’t know, it’s never been an option.” All I can tell you is that women like myself have a unique set of skills. For myself, I was not called into religious life nor was I called to serve in campus ministry or to work in a hospital. I have a great love and understanding of sacred scripture, sacraments and ritual, and yet, without this space that I have found at IPJC, how would I, a Catholic woman with MDiv use her education, skills, and charisms? And I’m not alone. So many women like myself have asked the same question. Each of the articles in this issue of A Matter of Spirit, represent the unique pathways of women like myself, who have been called to live out a specific vocation—to preach, to pray, to serve, to mourn and laugh, and to live out the Gospel call to love one another. As you will see on each page of this issue, women all over the world are carving out new, prophetic pathways in ministry and it is up to the Church to decide if it will be moved by these Spirit-led pathways. Samantha Yanity, MDiv Cover art © Kelly Latimore This cover art shows us the various sacred pathways to God through women as presbyters since the early Church. 2
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Pastoral Call and Prophetic Response BY CHRIS MAYER
“Compassion” © Sister Mary Southard, CSJ, www.ministryofthearts.org
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God’s Calling used to work as a technical writer at The Chicago Tribune, but was laid off with about 700 others. At the time, I was also questioning my work, my role, and wondering how I could contribute. I was organizing some papers and found a small pamphlet from church about the corporal works of mercy, like feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, clothing the naked. My father was a Minister of Care at hospitals and nursing homes for years following his retirement, and I remember him asking, “Now that your Trib job is over, what will you do?” I said, “I want to do what you do.” At this time, many difficult emotional things were happening in my life. My husband (at the time) and I were struggling with infertility. We endured eight artificial inseminations, six in vitro fertilizations. Once I got a call that I might be pregnant; the blood test was inconclusive. The next day, the blood test showed that I was not pregnant; the nurse and I cried on the phone. It was a lonely time for me, since this was happening to my body. My husband tried to understand, but how could he, really? I remember self-isolating, turning down invitations to baby showers and baby birthday parties. I never wanted other women to use these ways of coping with their pain. I wanted to accompany women and men who were sad or going through their own versions of hell. I wanted people to know that they were not alone.
With all this happening in my heart and head, I did a Google search: “Women+ministry+career” or something similar to that. The National Association of Catholic Chaplains (NACC) site popped up. I thought to myself, “Wait…I can be a woman, ministering in the Catholic Church, and still earn some money? Really?” I applied to Loyola University Chicago to start my master’s degree in Pastoral Studies. Now I’m a Catholic chaplain, working at Chicago hospitals, accompanying patients, laughing with those who laugh, and weeping with those who weep. One of my most difficult shifts was a 24-hour shift. Three people died that night; two were twins, just born, a boy and a girl. I am not able to have children, and have done much grieving over this fact, so this hit home personally, as well. I was called up to baptize the twins. The Catholic parents were there, of course. The mother, having just given birth, was wheeled in her bed to the babies’ side. They were tiny, and I asked the nurse if I could even touch their little foreheads; sometimes the skin is very delicate. I reached into each bassinet and baptized both babies. I cried with the parents and prayed. A few hours later, the baby boy died, and I went back up to bless the baby and console the parents. A few hours after that, the baby girl died, and I went back up. By now, more family had arrived (this was pre-COVID-19), and we prayed and thanked God for these babies, for comfort, for the care of the staff, for the support from loving family members. This grieving couple taught me so much about faith, about family strength, about marital love. I’ll never forget this night. In a way, I think God helps us chaplains heal from our own sorrows, while ministering to God’s children. I’ve heard other chaplains experience healing, too. I am grateful for this and for my fellow ministers and for the hospital staff—we are a team.
“We all contribute in our own way. I know that through my own ministry, my own“yes” to God, and my own willingness to serve God’s children, that I, too, am being healed.” In some cases, patients might ask, “Why did God do this to me? Why did God give me this disease?” I’ve asked that question of God, too, at different times in my life. I think God loves when we ask questions, when we keep asking, when we try to understand and ponder and learn—from Scripture, from books, from each other, from counselors and ministers. We are here for each other, to help each other. Additionally, I am a big fan of “flipping” things and ideas. For instance, I heard a great homily once, where the priest said, “Instead of asking why, you can choose to ask, ‘What am I going to do about it?’” That’s a wonderful “flip.” Instead of turning inward and isolating, one can figure out how to help other people, how to turn intense,
personal sorrow into something that helps others or facilitates the release of pain for others. We can use each life experience to grow and heal and help others to grow and heal. Realizing this transformed my life.
Women Take Up the Call I am seeing more and more women become chaplains. We are not allowed to be priests or deacons in the Catholic Church. We are, however, allowed to be Ministers of Care, Extraordinary Ministers at Mass, lectors, and volunteers of all kinds. I’ve ministered with older women for whom chaplaincy is a second or third career, or a way to minister to others after their own children are grown. Some of us are divorced; some of us are married; some have never married but are not religious sisters. I also find that perhaps women, and older women at that, are good at listening and are not threatening to others. So many people—men and women, young and old—confide in us. We have experience and knowledge about the world, about life, and about marriage and family. We have a different perspective from our male counterparts, and certainly a different perspective from priests. We have experienced our own joys and sorrows. So it seems that many patients confide in us. When I was going through my own divorce, I encountered male patients who were dying and told me about their affairs and their remorse. One said, “I’m a bad man.” We talked about the Prodigal Son and how God loves us, and we are God’s children. We talked about forgiveness and how God never turns away, but always stands open-armed, waiting for us. Sometimes, we sit in gentle silence. I once ministered to a female oncology patient who was still angry about her divorce from 20 years earlier. We cried. We talked about forgiveness and acceptance. She hugged me, and we cried some more. She was grateful to God for her children, who were gifts from her marriage. Three days later, she died. I waited in the hallway at 3:00am with her ex-husband, while her adult children and her parents went in the room to say goodbye. I prayed silently, “Really, Lord? You want ME to wait in the hallway with this man? Me? You gotta help me…” I could not have done this without God’s help; God’s grace always comes through—just in time! And through this experience, maybe my own wounds of divorce healed just a little more. A never-married minister might not have understood the difficulties of marriage and affairs like I have. A Catholic priest might not have understood this dying, divorced woman like I did. Women bring a whole new dimension and life experience to ministry: We may have given birth; experienced miscarriages or infertility; been cast aside by our husbands for younger women; been raped or abused. We understand life and experience life in ways that men cannot. That said, I have had wonderful ministerial encounters with Catholic priests who have helped me on my journey. We all contribute in our own way. I know that through my own ministry, my own “yes” to God, and my own willingness to serve God’s children, that I, too, am being healed. Chris Mayer is a board-certified chaplain in Chicago. A M AT T E R O F S P I R IT
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